dawn to day and back again
by Bella Ragazza
Summary: because scars aren't just for faces. pre-game. [squall/seifer]


dawn to day and back again  
  
FF8 Fanfiction by Bella Ragazza  
  
  
  
and now, for something different. because scars aren't just for faces. pre- game. [seifer/squall]  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
He was tawny and feral, a half starved look in his eyes like a wild animal. They were green and fathoms deep, and his expression, all his own, smirking and looking for all the world like he knew something they all could never comprehend. He was frightening and fascinating and alone.  
  
  
  
He was dark, brown feathery silk crowning a face with an aquiline nose and lush sable lashes. Eyes the color of gunmetal, sometimes swirled with azure and you'd go crazy before figuring out their definite shade. Not that he'd let you look into his eyes, anyway.  
  
  
  
Light and dark can never exist alone. One needs the other, to follow another, for days and time and life to continue. The sun brings the hectic, noisy rush of day, the dark silent, a time for slumber and solitude and quiet reflection. They are the antithesis of each other, parallel opposites, yet they depend on one another whether they know it or not.  
  
  
  
The light and the dark fought for superiority, sparring that grew to conflict that grew to personal war as the years passed by. The light was always the aggressor, burning and testing his nemesis until he pushed back just as hard. The light enjoyed this, for it gave him immense satisfaction. Even if it meant he was losing ground, it meant the usually passive dark was losing his omnipresent cool.  
  
  
  
One day the light and dark were taunting each other, the light's smirk inching upward a millimeter every time the dark would fire back. Unruly hair the exact color of milk chocolate swayed all round, eventually falling into those indistinguishable eyes. Then the light went too far; apparently a mother was an especially sore spot with the dark. The light was confused by this. None of them had a mother anyway; he knew he sure couldn't care less about the woman who had given him life. The issue could go no further in his mind, however, as the dark cracked the light a good one, across one smooth patrician cheekbone. The sharp gold lion emblem on his ring left a welted cut, blood seeping and oozing down.  
  
  
  
For once in a very long time, the light was silent. With one forefinger he swiped at the wound, gingerly tasting the crimson fingertip with his tongue. It was odd tasting, metallic and bitter but his own taste all the same. The dark made a sound of disgust at this, and the light thought he was referring to him but he was really looking at the lion's head, smeared with the light's blood. He looked up at the light, eyes grey and blue and dark black pupil all at once. The light was mesmerized, reminding him of the time he had taken his beloved boat too far out from the Centran coastline. The little stone house had looked so far away, the sky terrible black and water frothy cold death, the very same as the dark's eyes at the moment. The dark tackled him hard, both colliding into an adolescent heap of awkward limbs onto the cold marble floor. The light and dark became a blur as fists and faces collided, muscular yet wiry legs kicked out hard and sharp canines bit into soft flesh.  
  
  
  
In the duration of the rolling and punching and brutality, the light had landed with the dark pinned beneath him. He was astonished to feel how they fit, how hipbones and ribcages and soft and hard spots alike lined up as precisely as toy soldiers in marching formation, like puzzle pieces of a macabre and chaotic picture. The dark was growling, clawing to break free of the hold on his limbs. But the light held tight, marveling at the dark's heat and wondering if he always felt this warm. How could someone so cold feel like a Fira spell in his arms?  
  
  
  
"Get...off...me..." The dark was panting shallowly, blue tank top plastered to his thin chest as it struggled to rise upwards for blessed oxygen. The light smirked, glaring into the dark's eyes. They looked blue now, slightly frightened but not as cold. His thin pale lips mouthed silent curses and the light had never seen something so beautiful and profane in his life.  
  
  
  
He wanted to taste it.  
  
  
  
The light always got what he sought, and he dipped his head down, fine tendrils of gold brushing the dark's cheek. His tongue swiped one trembling upper lip, then it's mate, who also received a soft nip. The light growled low in his throat, dark tasted of salt and slightly of lemonade from lunch and unlike anything he thought it would. The dark whimpered, latching his mouth to the light's own. Tongues, unafraid and warm and wet probed and explored in unsure but intense passion that had no name, but had a life and force all it's own. Two love starved boys, hungry to forget the feeling of emptiness, two halves temporarily becoming whole.  
  
  
  
"Squall." The light whispered, staring down at the boy whose lips were swollen and bruised like overripe fruit. One ivory cheek was smeared with the light's blood, and he brushed his fingers over it. The dark nudged his head towards the light's touch, then pulled away a half second later. His face flushed, and the light wanted to claim him all over again but didn't. Darkness and light can never be one; they are forever equals, yet separate.  
  
  
  
"Seifer." The dark reached for the cut on the light's face, and blue light poured forth from slim fingers. The light nodded, as if it was his due, his mask of arrogance already slipping back down over the now perfected face.  
  
  
  
"We never speak of this again." The light warned, moving down once more to brush his lips with the dark's, both with vigor and warning. They stood up, boyish awkwardness settling in for a moment as hands smoothed ruffled hair and T-shirts.  
  
  
  
"Never." The dark said roughly, brushing past the light on his way back to the dormitory. The light felt something cold and hard press into his palm. He waited, waited until the footsteps faded away before daring to open his hand. He opened it slowly, long thick fingers like a blooming flower.  
  
  
  
A platinum colored lion winked at him in the faint light as night gave way to dawn.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
-fin- 


End file.
